He's got a
wooden leg."
"Poor boy!" said Ben compassionately.
"Oh, he don't mind it, Patsy don't. He's always jolly."
By this time they reached the office of the California Steamship
Company. There was a large sign up, so that there was no difficulty
in finding it.
The two boys entered. The room was not a large one. There was a
counter, behind which were two young men writing, and there was
besides a man of middle age, who was talking to two gentlemen who
appeared to be engaging passage. Seated in a chair, apparently
awaiting her turn, was a young lady, whose face was half-concealed
by a thick, green veil.
When the two gentlemen were disposed of, the agent spoke to the
young lady.
"What can I do for you, miss?" he asked.
"I am in no hurry, sir," she answered, in a low voice. "I will wait
for those boys."
"What's your business, boys?" demanded the agent, shrugging his
shoulders.
"When does the next steamer start, sir?" inquired Ben.
"In three days."
"What is the price of passage?"
"First-class?"
"No, sir, the cheapest."
"One hundred dollars. Do you wish to secure passage?"
"Not this morning, sir."
The agent shrugged his shoulders again, as if to say "I thought so,"
and turned again to the young lady.
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